


The show must go on

by U_know_u_luv_me_99



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fighting, I don't know what else to say without adding spoilers, I'm quite happy with it, Ireland, It gets better I promise, Northern Ireland, really just want to see any reactions to this, separate lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/U_know_u_luv_me_99/pseuds/U_know_u_luv_me_99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy E. Strange is a gentle man.<br/>Emmerson Kelly is a performer.<br/>Madeline Sophie O'Reilly just is.<br/>The three lead lives so separate and yet so intertwined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jeremy

Chapter One

Jeremy E. Strange was a gentle man. His eyes were soft as fallen snow, but at any moment they could turn into blizzards. Now don’t be confused; gentle does not mean kind, gentle does not mean happy, and gentle does not mean good. Gentle means gentle, and gentle is what Jeremy E. Strange was.  
He had never been one for illusions. Despite being a street performer and 'magician' he made sure all of his tricks were real. Juggling, acrobats, a bit of contortion, and, his personal favourite, sword swallowing. His quick wit and charm went a long way too.   
Despite his many talents, Jeremy didn't make much money. Street performance wasn't much of a profession. It did help a bit that there wasn't much competition in his small hometown, to the west of Northern Ireland. He would have moved away by now, to a bigger city, a bigger crowd, but he knew he wouldn't be the star then. Because even if most people didn't pay him, they knew who he was. He was famous. And as hard as it was, Jeremy couldn't give that up, just so he could become another nameless failure somewhere else.  
And so he tried, he tried his hardest to get a steady job, but even without his reputation he would never have the patience to deal with a job with steady pay. And if he was being honest, the reassurance of a steady job bored him. He needed the risk and the struggle, because without it he didn't know what to do. The risk of not having any food that week drove him to try more things, better things. He would never have been able to perform most of his tricks, without the risk of losing everything.  
He told himself that he'd leave eventually. He told himself that one day, when he had learnt more, when he was better, he'd leave. Move to London or Dublin or Paris and shock everyone with his skills, and he'd be famous like he always wanted. But he doubted that would happen.  
And so he performed to the same crowds, and listened to the same women telling him how much he'd improved, and the same boys covering up their giggles with manly laughter when he winked at them after the usual innuendo. He was used to it now, he didn't know if he even wanted to leave anymore. There were enough people who appreciated his humour enough to give him money, and that money paid the rent, if nothing else. He wasn't above theft if it was necessary.  
He didn't really have many friends, most people appreciating him in half hour intervals during his performances. He was charismatic, charming, and flirtatious, but when it came down to it, he pushed all potential friends away with his sharp honesty and harsh words. And he didn't regret a thing. If he made connections, he might lose any and all hopes for the future. If he made connections he might settle, lose motivation. Although deep down, he knew that he didn't need connections to do that, he held onto the chance that one day he'd make something of himself. That one day he'd be able to shove his success down the throats of all his judgmental ex-classmates in their suits and ties, with degrees and scholarships. One day, he'd prove to his mother that he wasn't useless. That she hadn't been right all along, that he could pull himself together, that he didn't need anybody else.  
"A little magic trick for you all here. You put your money in this hat and I'll transform it. A little bit of hocus-pocus, and your money becomes mine. magic."  
"Now if you want to take something this long down to the hilt without struggle, you need to properly lubricate it, am I right ladies? Don't worry your children won't get that, and if they do, it's not my fault."  
"You, with the eyes and the smile, why don't you come up here and give me a hand."  
"Now now, Mrs. Barlow, I'm sure you can part with a little money. Come on, help a poor man out."  
"Just held this for a second, don't worry, as long as you point the flame away from you hair, everything will be fine."  
It was the same thing everyday, some smooth words, a few stunts, and a flash of his famous smile, and then back home to count the small change he received. It didn't help that half of the money he received went into alcohol, matches, and other supplies. What little money he had left went into the rent. His apartment was so empty, he spent most of his free time sleeping or drinking away the alcohol he used for sterilization of his swords.  
He drank his way through life, smiling and smirking and trying not to admit that he was going nowhere. He needed the hope, and if he ever admitted that he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, he wasn't sure he wouldn't drink his way into oblivion.  
Everyday, it took longer to force the gleam back into his eyes, and some days he almost couldn't get it there in time for his shows. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that his audience couldn't know. Know what, he wasn't sure. He just knew that he had to keep up a smile and a laugh at all times. Even when he was alone, he often feared someone was watching, and made sure to laugh every now and then, usually with his mouth around a bottle.   
His only company was a small tabby cat, with bright green eyes that came and went whenever it pleased. He hadn't bothered to name it, because he knew it wasn't his, it was just a cat, who occasionally dropped by, before going off to widen its eyes and look innocent. Playing a part in order to survive, gaining food by putting on appearances. He couldn't help but feel they had a lot in common, both putting on masks in order to earn a living. The only difference was that the cat was successful. Because no one needed anything from the cat, no one expected it to change. Jeremy wished it was that easy for him as well.


	2. Emmerson and Madeline

Chapter Two

Emmerson Kelly was a performer. If not in profession than certainly in attitude. If he wasn't in the spotlight, he wasn't happy. With one exception. When Madeline was on stage. Madeline, who played Sharpay in the stage production of High School Musical, Madeline, his best friend. When she was on stage, Emmerson didn't have to be. Any other time, and he was in charge.  
He worked in finances, a business man through and through. Sharp suits, gleaming shoes, and eyes that could cut metal. His brown hair slicked away from his face and covered with a hat at all times, to Emmerson, appearance was everything. Madeline teased him about it, but Emmerson was proud. Look powerful and people will treat you as such, he would say. And powerful he was. With every step he took, the world bent a little more to his will, bowing to his command, and no one even knew.  
With one exception, Madeline. It seemed that she was the exception to all his rules, as he was hers. There was no chemistry between them, but they loved each other unconditionally. She was the sidekick he never thought he needed, standing by him against all odds.  
But Emmerson wasn't always himself. Sometimes he let that power become him, as it led a life separate from his own. With Madeline by his side, he was unstoppable. Where Emmerson was strong and unwavering, Madeline was wild and unpredictable, each with their own skill set. Emmerson, was in charge, no doubt about it, he was the more powerful, with a sharp smirk and hands that worked magic. But Madeline was the fighter. Quick movements and precise choreography making her a formidable opponent. She reveled in the chance to let loose. The chance to let her body take over completely, mind shutting down. It probably should have been obvious that when he mind shut down, and her instincts came out, the music would too. All of her battles were accompanied by lyrics and rhythm as the show flowed through her bones.  
The pair were undefeated in these roles, commander and soldier. When they wore these masks, they were cruel and fierce. But in their everyday lives, offices and stages, they were smart and kind, with sparkling grins, and soft touches. Only their eyes betrayed them, the strength shining through undisguised. The pair led two lives, but they were both waiting. Waiting for the day they could just be. Be themselves, be in control, be strong. Because both, knew that their strength was what made them who they are, and without it, they were just playing parts.  
They had both spent so long playing parts before they had found each other. They found each other in a strip club, the one down the side street of the side street in the middle of nowhere that no one knew about it. Madeline had taken the stage, the smooth lines of her body twisting and bending. Emmerson had taken her to his bed, neither expecting anything more. But the next morning as she stood to leave, Madeline recognized something. She would have recognized the strength behind his eyes anywhere, she'd been hiding her own for so long.  
And so she stayed, the two of them continuing their live, continuing their roles, and then coming home to each others strength. To the knowledge that they weren't alone. It took years for either of them to admit that they stayed together for anything but the physical comfort of a warm body, but once they admitted that the company was so much better, they stopped sharing a bed.  
Emmerson, needed an audience, and he got one in his colleagues. His co-workers who hung off his every word, as he told them tales of his past, entirely lies. He told them of his hookups, of his past jobs, of his home, of his friends, none of which existed. He didn't tell them about the fights, or about Madeline. He knew the tales would interest them, but he didn't want them to know the truth. He didn't want them to know the real him. Part of him was scared that if they did, he'd have to share it with them. He was scared of more things than he'd like to admit. He was scared that Madeline would leave, he was scared that he would lose his control one day, he was scared that his two lives would mix, that one day he'd forget, and play the wrong role. He was scared that one day he'd go to work, and his smiles would speak of danger, and his presence wouldn't inspire awe, but fear. That one day, the power would be too much, and he wouldn't be able to control his strength. And he was scared that he wouldn't want to.  
Madeline wasn't scared, she was prepared. She knew that all of Emmerson's fears were justified, because that amount of power should never be contained. She knew that one day, the roles would merge, and Emmerson the man would become Emmerson the magician. Because that's what he was. He was born with the power that flowed through his bones, and some of it had to be released, the power that struck out through his words and hits, couldn't be anything but magic. His power held a threat that could not be ignored, he needed control.  
And yet he needed to be controlled as well. He needed the power within him to take over occasionally, he needed it to take charge and tell him what to do. Because sometimes the strength was the only thing that made his heart beat in the still nights when tears threatened to spill. The strength stopped him from feeling alone. The strength stopped him from being scared.  
And the power led him on, forced him to do better, to be better, to fight for what he wanted. The power is what brought him into the big cities, the power urged him onward, towards the throne.

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [tumblr](http://u-know-u-luv-me.tumblr.com/), and check my [writing](http://madoulgeris.weebly.com/) [blogs](http://fairytalesoftheworld.weebly.com/).


End file.
